


it's christmastime (there's no need to be afraid)

by shuuuliet



Series: the most wonderful time of the year (merry psychmas) [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, First Christmas, Gift Exchange, Juliet is still riding the strugglebus HARD, Post-Episode: s04e16 Mr. Yin Presents..., Shules, established shules, soft! shawn, traumatized Juliet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuuliet/pseuds/shuuuliet
Summary: It's been a long and difficult year for Juliet, especially dealing with the aftermath of being kidnapped by Yin. Luckily for her, Shawn knows just how to make her feel safe and loved on their first Christmas together.Written for "12 Days of Psychmas 2020", Day 1.Prompt: Gifts
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Series: the most wonderful time of the year (merry psychmas) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060061
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23
Collections: 12 Days of Psychmas 2020





	it's christmastime (there's no need to be afraid)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all!
> 
> I'm super excited about the Psychmas prompts, although I'm not sure how many I'll be able to do! I just couldn't resist writing a little something for this prompt, though. Hope you all enjoy! :) 
> 
> The title comes from the song "Do They Know it's Christmas?" (1984)
> 
> As usual, I don't own Psych.

Juliet wakes up in a weird mood on December 24th. She doesn’t know why she still wakes up feeling unsettled each month on the 24th, and she idly wonders if, when it’s finally been a year, she’ll finally stop counting the months, finally feel totally free from the memories of the trauma.

It would be nice if she could feel free from it today, being Christmas Eve and all, but she knows that she can’t always stop the memories from impacting her. They come whether she wants them to or not (and obviously, she does not), and for some reason, as each month goes by without her being entirely healed, it just stings a little. She knows she needs to be patient with herself, but she’s just not accustomed to the way the memories of being kidnapped weigh on her. She’s not used to feeling so…weak.

Sighing and shaking her head as she gets out of bed, she tries to get in a festive mood. She heads to her dresser to pick out some quasi-festive earrings for the day, hoping that will help. She tries not to look at the spot on her dresser where she used to put her watch when she took it off at night. _That’s_ something that she doesn’t need to think about today.

It’s been ten months to the day since Juliet took off her watch. That night after she’d been tied to the clock tower, she’d practically ripped her watch off of her wrist and thrown it into the back of her kitchen junk drawer, where she wouldn’t be haunted by the sound of its ticking, and most importantly, she wouldn’t have to look at it.

Ever since, she’s used her cell phone to keep time, excusing herself by saying she’d forgotten to put her watch on when Lassiter sees her pull it out of her pocket when he asks her for the time. He asks for the time so infrequently (since he wears a watch of his own) that he probably hasn’t put it together, which is for the best.

She hates how weak her aversion to clocks makes her feel. It feels stupid, silly, but she just can’t get past it. She tells herself it’s just one of those things, one of the leftover pieces of the trauma she’d gone through that will fade in time, like how her fear of heights is slowly dissipating as time passes—although a particular moment on a bridge with Shawn may have helped that along—and that at some point, she won’t flinch at every tick of a clock, the way she still sometimes does when the clock in the conference room catches her off-guard.

She could have bought herself a digital watch, and she’d considered it, but the idea of even _trying_ to go watch-shopping gives her anxiety, so she’s never gone through with it. And after all, she really _likes_ her watch—she’d bought it for herself when she’d made detective, transitioning from the cheap watch she’d worn with her officer uniform to a much nicer one that went with the suits she wears as a detective—and she’d even had her badge number engraved on the back of the watch face, reminding herself of what she’d accomplished. She’s excited for the day she can wear it again.

She’s already wanted to put it on a number of times since the night she took it off, but something gives her pause every time she goes to dig it out of the drawer. She’s just not ready for a tiny clock on her wrist, knowing the faint sound of its ticking would still make her hair stand up on end.

She misses it, and someday she’ll be ready, but not yet.

But things at the station have been busier than ever lately—for some reason, Christmas time is always impossibly busy--and this year, she hasn’t had any time at all to stop and breathe. This year, she’s found herself thinking a number of times that it would have been really nice to have her watch on, as she’s found herself constantly running out of time and falling behind at work, but no matter. She tries to push the thought out of her head every time it occurs to her that it _would be really helpful if she could just get past this_. The psychologist told her not to push herself too hard. One day she’ll be ready.

She drives to work slowly, trying to put the feelings of uncertainty that she woke up with behind her. It’s just a number on the calendar, nothing more. Soon, she knows, she’ll be busy enough at work that she won’t think about it, and then there’ll be so much to look forward to with all the festivities of Christmas, and that will help. Soon, she’ll forget.

And she does. Christmas Eve at the station is as busy as she expected, so busy that she nearly forgets it’s Christmas Eve. Going to Miami for Christmas has long since been out of the question, which saddens her a little bit, but she’s mostly fine with it. Besides, it’s her first Christmas with Shawn since they got together, and she’s excited to spend it with him. She and Shawn are exchanging gifts tonight, after she _finally_ gets off work.

She doesn’t know what to expect from him, but he’s been very excited ever since he told her he picked out her gift. Shawn’s always been very thoughtful, and he’s always read her so well, that she feels a little thrill run through her every time she thinks about what he’s got planned. They haven’t been dating all that long, but after all the years of waiting, she knows that getting to spend Christmas with him will be really special. 

Finally, she gets off work, texting Shawn to tell him that she’s on her way home. They had planned to meet at her place, and she hopes Shawn will already be there by the time she gets home. He has a key for days just like this one, and after such a busy day, she’s ready to get right into celebrating with him.

When she walks in, she’s surprised by the smell of Christmas cookies, and she’s especially surprised to find that there’s not even a hint of smoke in the air. She’s never known Shawn to be much of a cook, so she’s impressed, and she feels even more excited about the night ahead of them.

“Jules!” Shawn greets her, bounding out of the kitchen as she arrives, a big grin on his face. “Finally! Are you ready for presents? There’s hot chocolate, and cookies, and--.”

She laughs at his exuberance as she takes her jacket off. “You made cookies?”

“Well, Gus made the edible cookies,” he admits. “The ones I made all merged together in the oven, but I turned it into a giant snowman cookie, look!” He holds up a truly giant, misshapen cookie, which he’s frosted with white icing and decorated with Froot Loop features for the face and buttons.

She laughs. “It’s perfect.”

“I named him Jack,” he says, “after the world’s most famous snowman, Jack Frost.”

She frowns. “Jack Frost isn’t a snowman.”

“He’s not?”

She shakes her head, smiling.

“Huh,” he says, shrugging. “Now that you say that, you know what, that kind of makes sense. I always wondered how he managed to nip at people’s noses with a corncob pipe in the way… no wonder Gus told me it was a dumb name.”

She laughs. “Well, I think he’s great.”

Shawn smiles, looking fondly at Jack. “So, you ready for presents?” he asks, his eyes lighting up as he looks at her.

“In a minute,” she says. “Let me wash my hands first so we can have cookies, too.”

Shawn nods excitedly, going into the kitchen to grab more cookies, and she goes to the sink, smiling as she realizes that two minutes with Shawn has already erased the stress she’s felt all day.

At last, they sit on her couch in front of the tree, and she can practically feel the energy radiating off of Shawn. She can tell he’s trying to keep himself contained, but his excitement is coming off of him in waves, and it makes her smile.

“So, what now?” she teases, just to see his reaction.

Shawn is practically bouncing, pulling a small box from behind the cushion on her couch. “Open mine, open mine!” he says, like a little kid, and his joy makes her fall a little bit more in love with him. She kisses his cheek as he hands her the box.

The box is beautifully wrapped—clearly Gus’ handiwork, as she just can’t see Shawn curling ribbon—and she opens it gingerly, trying not to tear the paper apart. Shawn is practically breathless next to her, and she almost laughs at his anticipation, trying to hurry herself along. When the paper is off, she slowly opens the box, her own excitement growing.

“ _Shawn_ ,” she breathes.

There, nestled in the box, is a nearly identical watch to the one she’d discarded ten months ago, down to the exact band that had been on her old watch. Except the face on this watch is digital, surrounded by intricate engraving so that it still looks beautiful and professional, but digital nonetheless.

Before she can stop herself, she holds it up to her ear, and feels relief wash over her as she realizes that the watch is completely silent—no ticking.

“Shawn, it’s beautiful! I don’t know what to say!”

“Flip it over,” he suggests.

She removes it from the box delicately and flips it over to see the back of the watch face. Engraved on the back, just as it was on her old watch, is her badge number, and beneath it, the words, “I’m proud of you.”

That does it. She feels tears well up in her eyes. “Shawn, how did you--?”

He shrugs modestly. “Gus knows a guy who makes watches. I took him your old one and told him I wanted something exactly like it, but digital, and quiet.”

“But, my old watch--.”

“It’s still in the drawer in the kitchen,” he says calmly. “For when you’re ready. But I just thought you might like this one, for now, so you don’t have to keep pretending you forgot to put your watch on.”

She throws her arms around him, and he responds with enthusiasm, holding her tightly as her tears begin to fall on his shoulder.

When her tears subside, she lifts her head off of his shoulder, pulling his face down to hers. “Thank you, Shawn,” she whispers against the corner of his mouth. She kisses him deeply, trying to impress upon him the meaning of the gift he’s given her. She had no idea that he’d been paying such close attention all this time, that he’d even noticed that her watch had been the one last obstacle she couldn’t get past.

He’d never asked her about it, and she was glad for that—she didn’t want to talk about it—but somehow he’d _known_ , and the love he’d shown her in addressing it meant more to her than she knew how to say.

When she pulls away, he looks at her, a softness and sincerity in his eyes that he wears so rarely in public, and yet, seemingly so easily in front of her. “It’s okay for it to still be hard, Jules,” he says gently. “But you’re not alone in it, okay? And I’m--,” he pauses for a second. “I’m proud of you,” he says slowly, looking at her, his hazel eyes focused and sincere.

She hugs him again, resting her head against his chest, and she feels his lips against her hair. “Merry Christmas, Jules,” he murmurs.

She smiles, closing her eyes as she leans against him. It’s been a long day, and yet now, in this moment, the number on the calendar feels like it can’t touch her. She finally feels entirely safe.

“Merry Christmas, Shawn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Merry Psychmas!


End file.
